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The
mothkin do not remember why years ago, they decided to worship the
stars of the southern sky, specifically. Perhaps it is because that
is the direction the weavers first arrived from. Or perhaps, becaue
looking south from their forest home, the they face the sea, a vast
mirror that reflects the night sky. Or maybe, some time ago, the
living constellations of the south did the mothkin some favor, yet
returned.

But
now, the stars recede as the first fingers of sunlight break
through the branches of the eastern treeline. And in the village of
Old Man's Chin, Red Jack continues his story.